


exhibition

by verity



Series: the shape you are shifting into [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Knotting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: They go up two more floors, stuck in the elevator with some guy in a business suit who doesn't take his eyes off his phone the whole time. Then Mila's fumbling with the card reader on her door, turning the handle, stepping inside. For a moment, everything feels like a replay of the previous night, at least until Sara reaches into her bag and pulls out something round and gold. "I—" Her cheeks flush. "Will you put it on me, and then—"The medal is cool in Mila's hand. Thinking about what it will feel like warm from Sara's skin makes Mila wet and hard all at once. She untangles the ribbon and lifts the medal up and over Sara's head, over her braided crown.





	exhibition

**Author's Note:**

> This is what it says on the tin. There is no plot! Just porn! It is loosely in the same universe as the previous fic in this series. thanks to forochel and thedeadparrot for their feedback!

Mila spends a few minutes hanging out by the women's locker room, trying not to look conspicuous, and then they have to stop by Sara's room, where Sara leaves her skates and grabs another bag out of the drawer. "We're going to yours, right?" she says. "Mickey has a key—"

"Yeah, mine," Mila says, too quickly. Every action feels like it betrays her eagerness, all her secrets and desires laid bare. She can't take her eyes off Sara, who tosses a dress and a pair of panties into the bag before turning towards the door.

They go up two more floors, stuck in the elevator with some guy in a business suit who doesn't take his eyes off his phone the whole time. Then Mila's fumbling with the card reader on her door, turning the handle, stepping inside. For a moment, everything feels like a replay of the previous night, at least until Sara reaches into her bag and pulls out something round and gold. "I—" Her cheeks flush. "Will you put it on me, and then—"

The medal is cool in Mila's hand. Thinking about what it will feel like warm from Sara's skin makes Mila wet and hard all at once. She untangles the ribbon and lifts the medal up and over Sara's head, over her braided crown. "What do you want me to do?"

Sara touches Mila's collarbone, just the lightest brush of her fingers, and trails her hand down over Mila's chest, her stomach, and then over her leggings, so delicately. "I want you to make me, um—and be in me. All of you. What about you?"

Mila bites her lip. "I want to put my face in your cunt."

"Okay," Sara says agreeably. "Let's do that."

* * *

Undressing Sara takes a while. Mila gets the zipper down far enough that she can pull Sara's breasts out of the shelf bra and drag her thumbs over Sara's nipples while they make out, Sara grinding onto her thigh. Sara's mouth is so hot and wet and her tongue is in Mila's mouth and her knee keeps glancing off Mila's dick: Mila can't think, she can't think. "I gotta, um," she says, pulling away, gasping. "I—"

Sara is flushed all down her chest, her lips swollen. "It's okay, you're okay. Whatever you— _fuck_."

Mila suckles on Sara's breasts, one after the other, until she smell Sara's wetness through her costume. Then she scoots down the bed to kiss the insides of Sara's thighs through her thick skating tights. Her scent is so thick down here—salt and musky—the fabric damp with fresh sweat.

When Mila peels Sara out of her costume, kissing her knees as she steps out of the tights, she's surprised to feel Sara plucking at her shirt. "You, too. I want to see you."

They shared a locker room for years. "You've seen me," Mila points out.

"Not all of you," Sara says.

So Mila lets Sara pull her shirt over her head, draw her leggings and her compression briefs down her thighs. Her dick is small, but it works as well as any male alpha's. She's still not used to the weight between her thighs, the way it responds to stimulation the way her small cunt does. Sara wraps her fingers around Mila's dick and drags them up the shaft. "If you keep doing that, I'll be done pretty fast," Mila says. She's close already, flushed and overwhelmed, high on Sara's scent and the feel of her body.

"You can go again, right?" Sara says, pushing Mila toward the wall. "I mean. I can."

This is not how this is supposed to go. Mila's supposed to be the one who's getting Sara off—but Sara's straddling Mila's thighs, medal swinging between her small breasts, jerking Mila off inexpertly. Mila can only pant, her back arching off the mattress as Sara's fingers slide behind her balls to the vestigial slit of her cunt, which Mila hasn't touched in months. She comes as soon as Sara crooks her fingers inside, eyes clamped shut, her whole body alight.

"Wow," Sara says, rolling off Mila to snuggle next to her. Then: "Are you okay?"

Mila manages a smile. "You blew my mind a little, that's all." Tentatively, she wiggles her fingers. "Want to sit on my face?"

Sara's legs are petite but muscled, one mottled with fading bruises that her thick skating tights concealed. Mila presses kisses to the soft insides of Sara's thighs, the seam of her groin, the smooth skin of her lips below her neat triangle of curls. She tastes as good as she smells—tart and rich, acidic, slightly sweet on Mila's tongue—and she's so wet that Mila's chin is dripping with her after just a few laps.

" _In_ me," Sara says, tugging Mila's hair a little before she leans forward to brace herself against the headboard.

Mila can't protest, because her mouth is full of Sara, her head is full of Sara, still dazed with pleasure. Carefully, she slides a finger inside Sara, then a second. Sara's so _tight_ , but there's no barrier to breach; Mila crooks her fingers forward and finds the spot that makes Sara shiver and grind her clit against Mila's tongue. How delicious it is to be so used.

When Sara comes, she clamps her legs around Mila's head, her thighs trembling, clenching down on Mila's fingers. Mila works her through it until Sara pulls away, falling to Mila's side, panting, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. "Hi," she says after a moment, turning her head to smile at Mila. "I, ah."

Mila smiles back. "Yeah. That."

The lights in the room are low: it would be easy to fall asleep like this, lazy and sated. Mila made a promise, though. So Mila divvies up the last of her vodka into glasses and they take a bath together and drink, soothing sour muscles and loosening their tongues. "That was—" Sara looks into her glass. "I used to think about it. That was better, though."

"Oh," Mila says, warmed through. "That's good."

Sara ripples a finger through the water. "I thought about you, I mean. Before. I thought we'd both be—the same."

"Sorry, I guess."

Sara shakes her head; the hotel shower cap gleams in the vanity's light. "No. I—I like you. This way. Like you are." She glances up through her lashes. "It's just different than I thought."

"Yeah," Mila says. "For me, too."

They're quiet for a minute, the only sounds the drip of the faucet and their own breathing. No footsteps pass by; everyone's probably at the gala, where they should be. Mila's knee is getting stiff. She slides her foot forward, underneath Sara's ass, and Sara's mouth twitches at the corner. "Don't get so serious. Come on, I want you to fuck me now."

* * *

For all Sara's inexperience, she's not afraid to say what she wants. "On my back is fine," she says, throwing back the bedspread to sprawl across the sheets. "I was afraid I was going to hit you with the medal earlier.

"You don't _have_ to wear it," Mila says.

Sara raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine," Mila concedes. She takes a breath. "Can I take down your hair?"

The thing about Sara's hair is that there's so _much_ of it. Mila has to prise out bobby pins and gently tease free the braid that wraps around Sara's head before she can start to loosen it. Once it falls free in dark waves around Sara's shoulders, Mila pushes Sara back against the bed. "Satisfied?" Sara says, eyes bright.

"Yes, yes, okay," Mila says, and kisses her.

They make out lazily for a while before things start to heat up all at once, Sara's hands on Mila's breasts, Mila's fingers teasing through Sara's curls. Then Mila has to get up and awkwardly drag a condom out of her bag, because, god, that's the last thing she wants to think about right now.

"I didn't even think about that," Sara says while Mila rolls it on. "I'm—I'm glad this is you. That you're you."

Mila kisses Sara on the cheek, then on the mouth, and then of course she has to keep kissing Sara some more while she teases her open gently. Sara winces when Mila draws her bruised leg up over her shoulder, but she pushes onto Mila's fingers, her breath coming quickly. Mila kisses her once, close-mouthed, before she pulls away to ask, "Does it hurt?"

"Not really," Sara says. "I'll tell you if it does."

By the time Mila pushes inside her, she's gotten Sara wet and hungry for it, the stretch and push that seems to go on forever. Sara rolls her hips against Mila's and rakes her fingers up Mila's back, drives herself right onto Mila's dick. Her hair billows out behind her on the sheets and Mila's surrounded in heat and affection. Sara's scent wafts up from the sheets like a dream and Mila feels like she'll die of it. Which is when she feels the base of her dick begin to swell.

"Oh," she says, flushing, embarrassed. "I have to—I'm—I'm sorry—"

Sara's eyes go wide. "Are you going to knot?"

"Yeah, I've never, before, I didn't—" Mila starts to pull out, but Sara grabs her by the hip. "Sara, I have to—"

"Give it to me," Sara says. "I want it."

Mila buries her face in Sara's shoulder and does.

* * *

The knot takes a long time to go down. Sara comes twice just grinding on it, firm and tight inside her where she's so sensitive. "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow," she says after the last time, running her hand along Mila's side. "I can't—"

"Was that what you wanted?" Mila says.

"Yes," Sara says. "It was perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
